


Tales from the 'Wealth

by narschlob



Series: Sunshine and Tarberries [1]
Category: Fallout - Fandom, Fallout 4
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Mashup, Multi, Other, ongoing, tags added as chapters added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-07-19 00:23:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7337098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narschlob/pseuds/narschlob
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a husband. Then there were bombs. Then there was a ghoul. But lots of things happened in between that. This is a collection of Juniper's adventures that are too obscure or irrelevant for the main work as well as a few snips of what life would have been like if Nathaniel had been the living parent instead. enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sturges, Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! if you haven't been to Bruises of Gold first, some of this might not make sense. BUT aside from a few inside jokes, all of these tales should function as stand alone reads and any chapter (unless specified as a part) can be read in any order. Thanks for looking!

Juniper James thought she could solve every problem one of three ways: with blood, with drugs, and with sex. Before she found her life back on a rickety track towards fire and brimstone, she was a hot mess. Although she couldn't look at herself in a mirror without lurching, somehow others found her incredibly appealing. 

When she first escaped the vault and made peace with the new word state, she let a trail of bodies behind her leading to a little rooftop in Concord where she found an old power armor that, when she strapped herself inside, felt like home for the first time in years. She had served as a soldier in the war, Manning her own Mech suit and earning a pretty box of medals for her efforts before her maternal discharge. Climbing into that armor on the roof was like wearing a second skin, it was all muscle memory. She completely incapacitated a giant lizard monster and tore his head off with bullets just to prove to herself she still could. 

Juniper faced fear with bloodlust. If it scared her she would conquer it and stand in the pool of blood left behind. But, as savage as she was, she was still tender where it counted. She rescued the little group hiding inside the museum and took them to her home, her sanctuary. She stayed with them for a week, using the chems the elderly woman offered up and learning all that she could about her new surroundings. The first offense is a good defense and the best defense is information. Flies the size of dogs attacked you with larvae and on the coast, some crabs had mutated to be over four stories tall. It was a lot to take in. 

What she received in knowledge she returned in labor. For the next month she flexed iced muscles and relearned how to use her body as the new environment fought against it. Radiation was a new fight for her and she constantly found herself on the couch in the common house letting the frazzled man in overalls pump her full of anti-rad chems. 

The mechanic mesmerized her. Her husband's death was a fresh wound and the mechanic often appeared to her as Nathaniel’s ghost. Her late partner was a power armor specialist for the American Marines, it was how they met. He could make anything robotic bend to his will and when he was finished he would smile at you and you would bend too. It was how she got pregnant. It was a constant chore to remind herself that 1. Overalls was not her dead spouse. 2. Overalls had a name. And 3. It was probably improper, even in the apocalypse, to fuck someone when you were newly widowed. Regardless of how true these facts were, Juniper constantly found herself at odds with justifying them so instead she kept her distance. It was not until months later that the first incident happened. 

Juniper was covered in blood, most of it not her own, and was just barely clanking into sanctuary on the fumes of her last fusion core. When she made it inside the settlement gates she decided it was safe enough to exit the armor and she all but melted to the ground. 

“Big. Green. Men.” She told Preston, who had opened the gates for her. “Farm up north. Goddamnit.” 

Preston checked her for fatal injuries and helped her to the common house. “Supermutants. Are you the only survivor?” His voice was tense.

“Heck no.” Jun smiled up at him, but the effect was lost behind a bandanna she wore to hide her scars. “Killed all the green guys and not a Corn stalk was left out of place.” 

Preston’s brows jerked up in disbelief. Juniper continued, smug. “I was a power armor marine kid, not a damn thing can get past me in one of those.” She jerked her chin towards the suit as the man in overalls swaggered out of the house to help Preston. Sturges, she reminded herself. This man is Sturges. 

With a smile and his signature Jersey drawl, Sturges greeted them and slid his arm gently around Jun’s side. “Sure hope the other guy looks worse.” 

Jun laughed, the sound raining down over the trio. Her shoulder was sore and she was battling fatigue more than anything. Her knees were sore from a nuke toting giant, whose explosion had nearly vibrated her out of the armor during the battle. Sturges was a welcome crutch and the familiar scent of oil and metal dust reminded her of days spent curled up with Nate. Almost despite herself, she let out a contented sigh. Preston followed them as far as the couch then retreated, muttering about the perimeter. The truth of the matter was that the tension between the mechanic and the survivor was palpable. The minuteman didn't was to stand in the way of anything that could happen because he cared deeply about both misfits and they deserved what little happiness they could find. So he left them, his cheeks burning red. 

Sturges lowered the woman onto a ratty red sofa, breaking away from her to bring a glass of water and some antiseptic. He nursed the cuts across her arms and hands and then dipped the shredded cloth back into the bucket of clean water. 

“What 'bout the rest of you? How's the legs?” He asked. 

Juniper had clammed up. In the last few minutes beneath Sturges’ gentle touch, she realized her attraction was more than she could contain. Something in the pit of her stomach was stirring. If she took off her patched up jeans she just may not get them back on. A second passed as she considered this. 

“I think there may be more than just a few bandages ahead if you take off my pants.” She raised a pale brow at him, waiting on his reaction. To his credit, Sturges didn’t miss a beat. 

“I can handle that.”


	2. Cold October Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> set three years in the future, jun and her ghoul share a night in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based on this art: http://narschlob.tumblr.com/post/150765857091/juniper-james-sole-survivor-of-cryovault-111
> 
> search the #juniper james tag if you want to see any more art of her from myself.

Three years had passed since the end of the Institute. Life in the Commonwealth had finally settled into a natural lull of repairs and harvest instead of gunfire and reconnaissance. While Juniper was still the acting General of the Minutemen, Preston had gained confidence and was doing well enough that Jun often left him as acting commander for weeks at a time. Though all her titles still hung from her shoulders; Sole Survivor, General, Savior, Mother; she was able to let the largest of the excitement die off with the last of the Institute agents. Now with her past comfortably laid to rest she was moving forward with her life in the present and adapting surprisingly well to the new world version of a mediocre home life. 

Most of her time away from the Castle was split between Goodneighbor’s statehouse and Sanctuary's sprawling village. When she needed time away from the public eye she retreated to her little apartment in Diamond City, now under the strong leadership of a board of trusted Minutemen agents. On this October evening she had done such a retreat, leaving Sanctuary to Sturges and the rest of the Commonwealth to Preston's steady hands. 

“Still listening to those old Shroud stories?” Juniper asked softly as she padded up the stairs to the loft where her bed was occupied by a certain Mayor ghoul. 

The radio sputtered as Hancock reached out to turn the volume dial down and sat up, making space for Juniper and the tray of food she was holding. 

“Just fantasizing about you in nothing but that black coat, holding a machine gun,” he smiled wrily, “nothing new.” 

Juniper swatted his hand away as her tried and failed to grab her by the waist. She sat her tray on the bed and brandished a bottle of whiskey from under her arm. Hands free, she curled her legs up under her and settled on the bed facing the tray and the ghoul. She had brought a pile of sweets and sugars to last them the night and even a little canister of jet to make it perfect. Hancock eyed the goods and paused briefly over the jet, considering it. A year had passed since he finally gave up the harder chem use, even though Jun insisted he not change anything for her there was something in his life worth staying alive for and he didn't want any more accidental blackouts missing a moment. The ghoul only used casually now and somehow less when Jun was gone. Long nights anxiously waiting for her to come home safe with Strong or Deacon or all alone had come to an end and now that they were on to more domestic lives he needed his free time to run Goodneighbor. 

Noticing his lingering, Jun reached over and turned his hand over in hers. The calloused skin was so familiar now it felt like home against her smooth contrast. A silent agreement passed between them and Hancock adjusted himself so that he could sit next to and drape and arm over Jun’s bare shoulder. 

Though it was colder in the later months, Jun had found a solution for her settlements and most importantly herself. After that first year of scavenging for clothing only to find it riddled with holes or smelling of corpse, Juniper took up knitting again. She would save husks after harvest to make thickened mats and blankets and let the village dogs grow their hair to shave in the winter for woolen jumpers and socks. While the process had taken lots of time and many trial and error attempts to get right, Jun finally had a system that worked. She taught those willing how to whittle branches into needles for knitting and how to make the simple purl stitches. Soon people were wearing more than just hundred year old flannel and radstag hide, they had clothing of their own making.   
Jun wore such a jumper tonight, one that was not actually hers but was easily one of her proudest creations. In Boston a few years back she stumbled on an old seamstress outlet and happily raided its remaining shelves. Yarns, she found, had an incredible shelf life. While she donated much of her findings to the settlers in Sanctuary she saved the rich red spools for herself and spent a month making the fluffiest, biggest, floppiest jumper ever. She had been away on business for Desdemona and hadn't been able to return home, clearly worrying her lover and decided this would be the perfect I'm sorry present when she returned. Red was his color, after all. 

Instead, although he was speechless when she gifted it, Hancock never wore the thing past that first day. They found it fit him too floppy and his thin shoulders could barely support the sweater. On top of that, the ghoul complained it was far too hot because as he put it “I'm literally walking radiation” and is too hot for woolen jumpers. Jun rolled her eyes, watching him scratch at the fabric and twitch uncomfortably. Too hot her ass. But to his credit, Hancock loved the damn thing. He hung it over the back of his chair in his Goodneighbor office and carried it in his knapsack when they traveled. Secretly, when Jun was away for more than a week he would wrap it around his pillow and sleep on it because it still smelled of her. 

Tonight she wore it because he insisted. Hancock had noticed her rubbing her hands in the cold and wanted her to be comfortable. It didn't hurt that she would be refreshing her smell for later. The jumper hung off her shoulder at one side, letting her old scar peek through and draped well past her mid thigh. While the ghoul suggested she wear the jumper only, she was snuggled into a pair of boys ripped jeans she salvaged from an abandoned house on the coast. Her knees pipes through the holes and as she pulled her legs in to adjust in her seat, the ghoul ran his fingers over her soft skin. 

“It’s nearly Thanksgiving,” Juniper said as she stuffed a sweet roll into her mouth. “Do you think you can get a letter out to Mac fast enough for the celebration?” 

Hancock’s smile was not big enough to show just how much his heart swelled when he looked at this woman. She had explained to him a few years past about the old traditions of the dead world and that next year he tried to recreate them for her. Thanksgiving happened to be his favourite because the he was so damn thankful to the universe for giving him a second chance. He knew Jun saw it as a celebration of friends and making it another year, a harvest, a feast; but really the ghoul saw it as a way to celebrate Juniper's existence. He wanted to give her the world and a half and this seemed like a good start to it. 

“I'll find a way, I'm sure he’s already planned the trip.” Hancock leaned forward and snatched a sugar bomb off the tray. “Anyone new this year?” 

“Probably not, things have settled down enough for everyone to carry on their own lives. You know, Preston and Piper are finally coming ‘together’ this time?”

Hancock’s only response was a chuckle. Jun fingered a hole in the jumper and shook her head. How did a man who wore clothing from the 1700s manage to tear up a sweater he never wore? She would have chided him but tonight he wasn't even in his red coat. His hat lazed on her night stand and his boots were tucked beneath the bed, bare gnarled toes out for air. Socks were apparently too much also. His fringed blouse had been traded nights ago for a plain white shirt which fit him loose enough Jun could fit inside too. Dispute cutting back on chems and entering a healthy relationship, Hancock was still stick thin. Something about the ghoul seemed to never build meat on his bones no matter how much he ate. His sinewy muscles were still strong beyond belief, much to Jun’s constant speculation. Something he demonstrated as he pulled her into his lap then, squeezing her waist and holding her in place while he buried his face in her neck. 

“Have I told you lately that I love you?” the ghoul was running rough hands up the back of her sweater against her cool skin. “Because I do.”

Juniper smiled at him, the newest scar on her chin stretching with her lips. “Every day, but I won’t ever get tired of it.”

“Good,” he told her, black eyes half lidded in the low light. 

“You know,” Jun peeled her arms from around his neck and reached into the pocket of her jeans. “I was waiting for the holiday but I just have a feeling tonight is the right moment.”

The ghoul cocked a brow and watched as she pulled her hand out of her pocket and kept her fist balled. Watching him carefully, she took his hand from her waist and held it up, placing light kisses on each of his knuckles. Hancock’s heart tensed as it always did when Jun made a decision. They had spent so much time breaking apart that even though their lives were much different now he couldn’t help the seed of fear that bloomed in the pit of his stomach. But when she squeezed his hand in both of hers he met her eyes. It was like getting lost in the fog and feeling safe with it. Happiness radiated off of Jun in a new way and a new fear bubbled up in the ghoul. Was this happening?

“I know this is a dated custom, but John, will you marry me?”

The candlelight glinted off the little gold circle she held in an open palm. This was Nate’s ring, he had seen it before hanging from a chain on her neck. She had lost it years ago or so she told him. Now, on this cool October night, she offered her last possession to him. A promise. Words failed him, his mouth drying up as all the air left his lungs. Jun’s hand began to shake as she waited, afraid this was the wrong thing. Just as she was curling her fingers back up, Hancock wrapped his arms around her and shot from the bed, spinning her around the room and laughing as yes yes yes tumbled from his tongue as fast as it could. He peppered her cheeks with kisses, her nose her eyes her chin, every little scar he had fallen for. This was it. This was real. Tears sprang up in Jun’s eyes as she began laughing with him. 

After one last twirl, they fell back on the bed, a tangle of legs and hands and kisses. The last of the food had rolled off onto the floor, leaving a trail of sugar dust and crumbs. Only the bottle of whiskey survives, tucked beneath the pillows like a witness. It watched as Juniper slid the ring on her lover’s finger and as it somehow fit perfectly despite his thin figure. She left another kiss on it, a promise. Just as Hancock was about to ask about the ring’s twin, she produced it from her pocket and gave it to him. He mimicked her placement down to the kiss. 

“With this ring, I thee wed.” Jun said, eyes still shining from the tears. 

“With this ring,” he repeated, “I promise you forever.”

“We find a way darling, and I’ll hold you to that.”


	3. Traincar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cold nights tend to be an exercise in trusting boundries. besides, rainy days are perfect for cuddling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set after the bobby incident, after kellogg's death, but before learning about the railroad or brotherhood. 
> 
> no more bad days - this wild life

The clouds rolled in faster than expected, lightening echoing across the forest of dead trees. There were no building as far as the eye could see but a destroyed train sat derailed, several of its train cars hanging open or overturned. Across the landscape things took shelter. The train was surrounded by a number of feral ghouls, walking skeletons with skin tight against unearthly strong limbs. The ghouls themselves did not need to hide from the coming radstorm, their bodies long accustomed to the radiation of the wastes. However, two travelers came peeking from the trees, guns drawn, looking for just the kind of shelter the train cars would offer. At the sound of sticks snapped underfoot, the pack of feral ghouls turned at once and launched themselves at the intruders. Shots echoed through the trees and one over the other the ghouls fell upon their dead. One ghoul evaded the gunfire only because it had no legs. As the pair of shooters approached, its struggled to crawl into an attack range. 

“Sorry buddy,” Juniper said softly, crouching just far enough that the ghoul couldn’t strike at her with his infected fingers. 

Her companion was not as gentle and showed no pity for the crippled feral. Though his ghoulish features only looked a hair healthier than the one on the ground, he didn’t hesitate to scatter the things brains across the dirt with his shotgun. Hancock ignored Jun’s chiding headshake and continued to clear the area, the metallic sounding thunder driving him forward. Sighing, Jun followed his lead and cleared an overturned train car to their left. Fifteen minutes later and the ghoul in the red coat shouted an all clear. 

Jun found him inside one of the train cars, this one’s doors still intact and with fewer holes in the top than the others she saw. It would make an adequate shelter in the radstorm, if not her first choice. But in the wastes nothing ever tended to be her first choice, so it was all the same as long as they could stay dry for the night while the storm passed. Hancock was already busy setting up a small fire in a barrel he rolled in from outside so Jun slid her pack from her shoulders and went about finding something they could cook over the fire. Three cans of purified water, a few sticks of squirrel bits, a box of sweet rolls, and one thick chunk of radroach meat that the ghoul had insisted they keep in case they needed it. Juniper blanched as she touched it, still not acclimated to the sacrifices the people of the fallout were willing to make to stay alive. She would eat a bullet before she fell low enough to eat a bug. 

The fire sent shadows dancing on the walls of the traincar which seemed to keep time with the beat of the rain overhead. The tang of water on steel felt more natural when the green glow it carried couldn’t been seen. There were only a few leaks from the top of the box that the travelers had to huddle away from, making sure their fire was safe extinguishing. They roasted the squirrel bits in silence, neither knowing quite what to say as they were still just acquaintances. Jun was looking for her son, Hancock wanted to play around in the Commonwealth with a new face; it didn’t hurt that the vaultie who showed up in his town was easy on the eyes. That, and she still hadn’t run away from him screaming. She could hold her own in a firefight too, all things he enjoyed in a person he called friend. Juniper was still skittish about the business of trusting anyone who traveled with her, but the Mayor of Goodneighbor came with a clean bill of trust from Nick Valentine, who she did trust unfailingly. 

Jun was wearing only a set of old army fatigues, her chest plate and other armor coverings removed when they made camp. The fabric was not thick enough to block out the chill that ran through her, shaking her physically against her will. Gritting her teeth, she scooted an inch closer to the fire and adjusted the bandanna that covered most of her face. There wasn’t much feeling in her fingers but she didn’t dare reveal the mutilation of her face just to blow into her clasped hands. Inside worn down combat boots she wore two pairs of holey socks layered over each other to fight the coming cold that haunted early January. Only three months had passed since she first woke up from her cryo-sleep in that old vault behind her home and there was still things she struggled to adjust to. The roaches, of course, but also the vast nothingness of everything around her. Nick informed her it had been two hundred years since the bombs dropped and yet nothing had regrown. Just thinking about how badly her generation, her fellow soldiers and the leaders they fought for, how terribly they ruined the world. Before she could get too much deeper into her depression her companion made a noise to get her attention. 

“Chilly, ain’t it?” Hancock said, shrugging out of his coat. “Looks like you need this more than I do.”

Juniper looked up at him, foggy eyes unreadable beneath the shag of white hair that fell over her brows. “Keep that, you’re wearing way thinner clothes than me.”

Hancock chuckled, draping his coat over her shoulders anyway. “Us ghouls run about a hundred degrees hotter than you smoothskins. I’ll be fine.” 

Jun didn’t argue it further, the inside of the coat he gave her so warm she couldn’t deny him. Instead she slid her arms in and pulled her knees into her chest. The thunder boomed around them again, this time making the vaultie jump.it wasn’t the storm that scared her though, but the ghoul she shared a space with. It wasn’t his features that set her on edge, contrary to what he was thinking as he watched her shrink into herself. In all actuality, Jun was worried about the things running through her head about the ghoul, none of them particularly pg. There was never a moment where she doubted her sexual attraction to him, watching someone kill a man for mouthing off tended to be a turn on for her. It was that there was absolutely no way anything good would come out of coupling with a well known ghoul such as Hancock who clearly had far more suiters with far less issues. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself a momentary fantasy of building a life after finding her son. 

While she had no hope he was still even alive aside from the evidence uncovered at the memory den, there was still that little matter of how to raise a kid when you knew nothing about the world anymore. She fancied Nick Valentine but he was more than clear about their relationship remaining platonic. She had romped with a few other strays, but no one who dared to match her in the ways she felt important. Jun was ruthless even before the war, fighting hard for the things she wanted. Years of depression had also made her caustic to both herself and others. It was one of the major reasons she wasn’t nearly as interesting in finding her son as she should be. Without the proper drugs after the bombs, her attitude remained so positively negative that very few could put up with her. The ptsd of both her wartimes and waking up from cryo gave her fitful nightmares which she tried to avoid by never sleeping. The blue circles around her eyes from the frostbite only darkened from weeks of sleeplessness. There wasn’t a single person she would wish upon the trouble of putting up with her. 

Juniper smelled like tarberries and curled up in his jacket she looked like a child. It was incredibly tempting to the ghoul to reach out and put his arm around her, just to touch her. Something about the way her knuckles were white, clenched in her pants, stopped him. Instead he cleared his throat again and offered her a cannister of jet which he had stashed in his pack. 

“You look like you could use this,” he said lightly. “Rain always makes the thoughts run wild.”

Jun huffed and took the chem from him, their fingers brushing. “Thanks.”

Another hour passed in silence as the chems worked through them both, making the waiting bearable. Hancock, more used to the effects than Jun was sobered up half way through but was enjoying watching her rock gently from her toes to her head. He frowned when her pattern was disrupted by another body racking shiver. 

“Jun,” her name came out so soft the rain almost drowned it. “Why don’t you sit a little closer, I’ll keep you warm.”

“N-no thanks.” her teeth chattered and she wasted no time considering his offer. 

“I swear, no funny business.” He made a scene of making an x over his heart. 

Juniper was about to deny him a second time when another shiver clamped her mouth shut. She moved into his open arm, their sides touching in this new position. He draped an arm over her shoulder, gently guiding her into the curve of his shoulder. His body heat penetrated her icy nerves instantly, allowing her feeling to return to her ears and elbows. The ghoul was like a furnace, easily three times hotter than the fire she had considered shoving her hands into. His chest rose and fell rhythmically, bobbing her head as it rested in the crook of his shoulder. Standing, she would have been close to a head taller than him, but curled into the fetal position with him as a pillow, she found they fit together like peas in a pod. 

The rain was slowing and there hadn’t been any thunder for a while, but neither traveler moved from their place. Juniper’s eyes were close and she had an hand resting on the ghoul’s chest. Hancock was humming what he could remember of one of those Diamond City radio songs, the vibrations passing from him into the woman he held. The warmth had coerced trust from her and for the first time since waking up in the vault, here inside a traincar curled into a man- no a ghoul- she barely knew, Juniper slept dreamlessly. Hancock never let his eyes close, one hand on Juniper hair and another on his shotgun. Sleep was not worth missing a second of this moment. The woman who smelled like tarberries and looked deathclaws in the face, who would go into a supermutant fight barehanded and cut off fingers of people who touched her without asking. Right here, as she snored gently on his chest, he knew that she was going to change his life. 

How much, he never would have guessed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried to keep the fluff fluffy and short. if you want to know more about jun x han and you happened upon this first, their story is being told in Bruises of Gold. art by myself can be found at narschlob.tumblr.com/tagged/juniper-james


	4. Pickman's Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jun has only ever been afraid of one thing, and it haunts her til this day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is certifiable crap, but like, i needed it out of my head. happy halloween or something. 
> 
> song: you and me and the devil makes 3 - marilyn manson

It was an interesting painting, that much was true. In fact, the entire so called gallery was interesting. Morbid, stinking of death, boots stuck to old blood grime; but interesting. Jun had been fond of art before and as she regarded this red and yellow paintings on the wall she accepted that artistic taste wasn’t something that you lost over time. If it wasn’t for the face that everything in the room was painted in human blood, she may have even enjoyed the trip. However, the stinking mountain of decaying limbs in the center of the room was really ruining the vibe. Sure, a girl can enjoy a good murder but this was overkill. Literally. Shining the light of her pip-boy around the corner, she cleared the room. Voiced floated through the house, reminding her that she wasn’t alone. 

When she split up with Nick back at the Memory Den, he made her promise she wouldn’t run off into any trouble on her own but when had promises every stopped Juniper James? Creeping closer, she rolled into a crouch and cleared the kitchen. The hallway doorway revealed two shuddering raiders, their guns sweeping the floor. 

“C’mon man, I swear I heard something!”

“Chill the fuck out,” the other said. “One guy can’t take out ten of us.”

Jun pushed the safety off her ten millimeter and stepped out of the shadows, “Ten, good to know.”

Two pops later and Jun had cleared out the rest of the house. Upstairs had only more gore on display, no sign of the others. Sighing, Jun resigned herself to searching for a hidden entrance because of course the creepy murder house had a hidden entrance. She picked over the dead raiders and followed a trail of stairs into a basement that was hollowed out on the other side. Fresh blood was strung over the floor and the pungent scent of decay nearly knocked her back up the stairs. Again, she found no raiders which meant she needed to force herself forward. Down through a series of tunnels in a maze of sewage Jun finally ran into the others. She counted five down before she hit the clearing. Jun perched on the edge on the clearing, observing the altercation below her. 

Three raiders had guns trained on a single man in a suit. Must be the curator, Jun hummed to herself. The raider leader, she assumed, had the barrel of his pistol on the man’s chest and was yelling at him. Too far to make out their words, Jun decided to pull her sniper rifle out to get a closer look. The man in the suit was grinning, unbothered entirely by the whole debacle. 

“Interesting,” she murmured as she downed one of the supporting raiders. The leader spun, looking for the direction of the shots as the second support fell dead. Jun jumped down from her perch, sights set to the raider’s head. 

“The fuck are you?” He shouted, turning his pistol on the newcomer. 

“Just a passerby,” Jun lowered her gun to his groin. “Unless you’re looking to change that.”

“Fucking cunt!” He fired on her as she loosed her own bullet. 

His tore through her abdomen, hers took off his balls. The raider fell to the floor screaming. Juniper wavered but remained standing. Blood was soaking up her white shirt. Jun tried to turn the gun on the artist but stumbled and lowered her weapon. She was beginning to see spots in front of his sinister smile. 

“No funny business,” she spat as she stepped back from him. “Or you get the same.”

But Juniper wasn’t able to back her threat because as she got out the last word she blacked out. 

*

Jun woke with a throbbing headache. She tried to rub her swollen eyes only to find her hands were both cuffed to the surface she was laying on. She began to panic, her feet were tied as well. Doing inventory she noted that at least she was still wearing her pants. Her jacket was open and her tshirt had been cut to rags, revealing her bare torso. Jun flexed her stomach, testing the gunshot wound. It was a dull pain and there was no familiar trickle of blood. The last twenty-four hours slammed back into memory; the gallery, the raiders, the artist. Fuck, if she wasn’t a prisoner of the artist then the raider’s must have gotten her. But she downed all ten, she thought. She gathered enough courage to open her eyes and was met immediately with gore. The raider she had shot was hanging from his wrists, totally nude. 

“And it seems our patient has returned to us.” The artist entered the room silently, looking like he couldn’t be bothered. 

“I’ll kill you where you stand,” Jun hissed, straining against her cuffs.

The artist grinned and stalked towards her, twirling a key in his hands. “Easy killer, you were only secured for surgery.”

Jun eyed him warily as he approached but didn’t sock him in the nose immediately. “So, you’re the serial killer huh? What’d you patch me up for then?”

The artist chuckled. “You can call me Pickman. And madam, I would never deface a beauty such as you. When you fainted I simply repaired your wound and made sure you wouldn’t reopen it by accident.”

Jun regarded him for a moment as she stood, massaging her wrists. “Fair. How long have I been down.” 

Pickman didn’t hesitate, sitting down on the bed she had vacated. “Three days. Interestingly enough, the bullet did minor damage but you seemed to have broken a rib on your way to my humble abode.” He folded his hands over his knee and smiled at her again. “A quick stimpack and some buff and now you’re good as new.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Jun looked around the room and shivered. The shredded genitals of the raider were covered in dried blood and the rest of his body had been carved with designs. A shudder passed through her at the idea of becoming such a canvas. Folding her arms around her chest, she turned back to Pickman. 

“Am I free to go?”

“But of course,” He stood and stepped close enough for their breath to mix. “If you so desire, I have a gift for you as my thanks for your heroic rescue. In a safe behind my finest work you’ll find your reward.”

*

Jun left and didn’t return until weeks later and only with Nick in tow. The place gave her the jitters and being so close to becoming one of the victims had given her nightmares for a week. Nick had given Hancock quite the verbal thrashing when she returned to the mayor to report her mission complete. He never admitted it, but the ghoul was loaded with guilt for inflicting so much pain on the newest woman in his life. The closer they grew over time the more Hancock worried if the nightmare she was having that night was something he caused. Now, with three years behind them, he had nearly forgotten about the incident entirely. 

They walked together in comfortable silence, Juniper with her shotgun at the ready and Hancock carrying a rifle over his shoulder. This time they were heading home from Railroad HQ after a lengthy time out for a synth escort. Their destination was the Old Statehouse in Goodneighbor but as always, they had to carve their way home through the ruffians who surrounded the area. A few blocks in, Hancock bumped shoulders with Jun and spoke.

“We should stop by and say hi to Deegan since we’re in the area.”

Jun stifled the shudder that raised goosebumps on her arms. “He’s probably not home anyway.”

Hancock was quick to notice her reluctance as it happened so rarely. He knocked a hand around her elbow and pulled her close, trying to look her in the eye. Jun was a few inches taller than him already and all she had to do to avoid him was look to the sky. Ever so gently he slid a calloused hand down her cheek and tilted her attention to him. 

“Sunshine, what is it?”

“Nothing, I just prefer to steer clear of that area and as it happens, Edward spends most of his time at the hospital anyway.” 

With that Jun gave him a half smile that didn’t touch her eyes and pecked a kiss on his nose before turning and heading out in their original direction. Another hour of walking and they were almost upon the walls of Goodneighbor when a firefight broke out. Raiders began to ooze from the walls as Juniper and her ghoul held them off. The pair fell into sync like dance partners, back to back and rotating to keep the other safe. Jun took a knee to blow out an attacker’s legs as the ghoul turned in tandem to fire into the man’s face. Bullets were flying from them like hail and bodies piled around them like dead flies. The midday sun reflected off growing pools of blood, setting a gruesome scene for the two. Neither noticed, perfectly in their element. It wasn’t until the last raider fell dead without either taking a shot that the pair stopped to consider why the fighting had started in the first place. Jun ran a hand across her forehead, smearing blood on her face in the process. A man in a suit stepped out from behind a junked up fence and she froze. 

“Well, well. How nice to see you again, Killer.” 

“Pickman,” her voice was barely above a whisper. Hancock looked up from the raider he had been casing. 

The name hit him like his own bullet, the fear obvious on Juniper face making his insides curl. In a way, that fear was all his fault. A low growl rolled from his chest as he carefully placed himself in front of his lover. The sleaze standing across from them grinned as if this was the most fun he had in days and indeed, it was. Just his face, smug at the reaction he elicited in the woman, broiled Hancock into a rage. He passed his rifle back to Juniper and pulled his bowie knife from his belt, stalking towards Pickman. This ended, here and now. Redemption for all those nightmares Jun suffered from his hand and sweet, sweet justice for anyone else who had crossed this creep in the past few years. Hancock stopped when he stood toe to toe with the other man, looking up into his oily face with a snarl. The ghoul pressed the knife into the other man’s stomach as he spoke. 

“Seems we have a bit of unfinished business, friend.” he punctuated his statement with pressue on the blade. Pickman only smiled in response. 

“Now, now. I was having a conversation with your lady friend, it’s rude to interrupt.” Pickman simply stepped back from Hancock’s reach and smoothed down his coat. “Killer, darling, what company you keep.”

“My husband,” Jun said, narrowing her eyes at the artist and cocking her shotgun. “Is welcome to interject at any time.” 

Hancock took her consent and grabbed the man by the collar. “See, friend, looks like the only problem here is you.”

“Such a shame,” Pickman said, making eyecontact with Jun over Hancock’s head. “We would have made a spectacular pair.”

The men sized each other up for a moment more before Pickman shoved the ghoul back and drew a machete from his coat. The artist put up a good fight, his had the upper hand with his weapon range but Hancock was fueled by white hot rage so when the machete sliced through his shoulder he barely noticed. Instead he took advantage of the proximity to his opponent and stabbed up, burying his blade to the hilt in Pickman’s jaw. He pulled the blade back out and followed the body to the ground, slashing at the man’s neck. The ghoul growled as he carved into the already dead man, sawing off his head. Overkill was nothing for this one, each blow a scream seared into the ghoul’s mind from endless nightmares. He didn’t stop until the head rolled away, entirely detached. His hands were dripping with blood, his face was splattered, the sleeves of his coat were wet. It was all worth it in the end, when he stood and turned looking like a posterboy for hollywood’s next slasher film. 

Jun could care less that he was dripping with someone’s blood as she threw her arms around his neck. He held her tight as she buried her face in his collar, trying to hide the tears that she had been holding back the entire time. 

“It’s ok Sunshine, he won’t bother you again.” Hancock rubbed his hand against his coat to dry up some of the gore before brushing back her hair. “I’m so very, very sorry.” 

Jun took a deep breath before she wiped her eyes clean and looked at him. “There wasn’t a day I blamed you for what happened, John. Not a day. I was too cocky going in and it was my fault.” She caught his hand as he reached to dry her tears. “Being that vulnerable, that weak, I hadn’t felt that since my childhood. It was the most terrifying thing I’ve experience here to date. Now it’s done and I don’t want to think about it ever, ever again.”

The ghoul nodded, holding her closer. There, surrounded by bodies, the two embraced and somehow found closure for a wound neither knew was even still open. The sun beat down on them, reminding the pair that work was still to be done outside of their personal fiasco. Reluctantly, Hancock took his lady friend’s hand and led her out of the carnage and didn’t let her go until they were locked safely in his room in the Statehouse.


	5. You Are My Sunshine, My Only Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone can live forever, not even heroes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you really want to be in pain, listen to   
> you are my sunshine - the civil wars  
> while reading the last few pages.

Not much time had passed over the Commonwealth but not much time was needed when lives were shortened with strife. It should have come as no surprise that the smooth skin was aging like the rest of them, she was after all only human. For all the time that they had spent together, Juniper had begun to seem invincible. The whole Commonwealth had spent so much time watching her save them they had made her into a living legend, impervious. 

 

Hancock had been aware for a long time that he and Juniper would not be growing old together, mostly because he couldn’t grow old. He used to joke about getting Jun to go ghoul so they could roam the wastes together forever, but he never really meant it. This wasn’t a life he would have wished on anyone else but the thought of losing the only person who really loved him was too painful to not consider it. Twenty-one years they spent together, clearing out mutants and keeping the peace between settlements. The first ten of that was like a fairy tale, two lonely people righting the wrongs of the world together spending days with bloody fists and nights with good friends. It was the kind of life he had always hoped for. Juniper was his dream girl, all sharp edges and soft curves, quick to finish a fight but slow to pick one. He couldn’t think about her without butterflies assaulting his stomach. To this day she smelled of tarberries, lying on his bed in the Statehouse in Goodneighbor. 

 

The vaultie had moved around a lot those first years, trying to spread herself out across the Commonwealth so she was available to anyone who needed her. The work, it seemed at the time, didn’t even cause her to break a sweat but her lover noticed. It was in the little laugh lines around her mouth and the popping of her fingers in the colder months. It was in the glasses that she had to start wearing not but three years after she first emerged from underground, her vision worsening so quickly that she even let Curie try an experimental surgery to improve it. At the gentle age of Thirty-eight Juniper lost her vision entirely. Preston had already taken over as General of the Minutmen and Deacon was handling most of the finally retired Railroad business, so it was alright for Jun to lay down her hat, though she wasn’t eager to. She still found ways to cause trouble, though. Nick had to pick her up from a raider camp not but a week after she moved back to Diamond City. Jun was standing in the middle of a burning camp, shot to all hell but still the only one alive. Whispers circulated that the white haired woman was actually a demon, driving off much of the riffraff that sought glory by taking her head. The detective would grumble and try to take her back to Goodneighbor, where Hancock had returned to govern while change settled in, but she never stayed. Juniper would throw a fit, insist she didn’t need help from anyone and walk herself home to Diamond City, never really explaining to any of them why she wouldn’t move back in with the ghoul she married. Nick had a pretty good idea though, being as old as he was. 

 

Although her technical age was closer to three hundred, Jun never felt like her life was long enough. Waking up next to a man who never changed should have been a comfort but all it did was remind her that life is anything but fair. First she stopped sleeping in his bed, finding it too hard to wake up to him watching her age with sad eyes. Then, slowly, she stopped staying with him altogether. Jun tried to excuse her actions by saying it was safer in Diamond City, there were less things she could accidentally fall and impale herself on and fewer people who wanted to kill her for funsies. Hancock agreed, if only to please his wife. He spent as much time as possible traveling back and forth between the towns, staying weeks at a time with Jun until she grew bitter, kicking him out and yelling about anything that pricked her fancy. It was never her words that hurt him but the fact that she was pushing him out again, just like the old days. Her mood swings would last months, sometimes never letting anyone come in. When it became apparent that she was too dangerous to herself to stay alone, Hancock insisted that Codsworth go live with her. The handybot brought a sense of normalcy back into her life and Jun stopped pushing her lover out, but not before a year passed in isolation. She was convinced that she was being put into the equivalent of a retirement home at the brief age of forty. Death, familiar face that it was, terrified Juniper James. She had never actually had to time to fear for her life when she really should have, but as she sat at home wasting days with nothingness she grew more and more afraid of the darkness. But more than anything, she was afraid of what would happen to her husband when she finally passed. 

 

It wasn’t a conversation either of them ever wanted to have so they didn’t. Jun grew crows feet and sometimes stumbled when she walked to the point she started using that old Shem sword for a cane on cold days. Hancock still woke each day with as much energy as they day they met. The real change started when he wouldn’t agree to adventuring anymore. He was always too tired or too busy for them to go exploring so Jun would stay home with him, but they both knew he was never too busy to cut loose. His sacrifices started weighing on her. Even without her vision to tell her, she could always tell when his gaze lingered on her aging skin. One day, in good humor, she joked that she wasn’t quite a smooth skin anymore and the gasp her ghoul let out broke her heart faster than his insistence that she was still as soft as the day she walked into town. It sickened Jun to know that people walked on eggshells around her now, so she pushed harder to act as if nothing had changed. For a bit, blind sex occupied them better than blind violence but that ended as well when she kissed a tear that had been shed in secret. 

 

Finally, after a few more years passed and the Commonwealth didn’t blow up in flames, Jun gave in to domestic living. She sold her place in Diamond City to Nat, who had grown up and desperately wanted to prove herself an adult to her sister. Hancock let her remodel their rooms in the Statehouse to suit her needs, letting her toss his old bed off the balcony when he brought in some clean mattresses he bought off a bunch of vault traders. Old Kent Connelly would come read comics to her in his free time, sometimes retelling her own adventures as the Silver Shroud as if he forgot she experienced them first hand. On rare occasions, Strong would come to Goodneighber, causing quite the scene as he visited. He brought Jun strange gifts that often involved body parts and insisted she eat them to get strong again while she taught him more human words. For a time, Hancock thought she recovered. They had developed a routine that seemed to lift her spirits. Some days Jun would spend time shopping with Daisy and gossiping with travelers like no time had passed, others she would sit in Cleo’s shop and polish weapons, the weight of a gun more comforting than any chem. Evenings Hancock would escort his wife down to the Third Rail where they would drink brandy and listen to Magnolia sing. 

 

The songstress had revealed herself a synth a few years after the downfall of the Institute, explaining her ageless face. Another year passed and she finally accepted Ham’s proposal and the Mayor of Goodneighbor got to marry two of his favourite residents on the balcony of his statehouse. At times the ghoul was jealous of his old friend, that Ham would never be forced to watch the woman he loved wither away. The pain would strike him so strongly some days that he would need to excuse himself from the nightly outing, in which case Ham would come to the statehouse to fetch Juniper himself. This way they snuck three more happy years out together, he laughter coming back for weeks at a time. It was one such night that left him here, watching his wife; how he relished being able to say that; sleeping in the best bed caps could get. When he remodeled their bedroom to accommodate her, he traded a good portion of his chem stash to the vaulties for a steady supply of fresh pillows and blankets as well as rad-free vault grown produce. Anything to stretch her health another day, another week, another month, another year. 

 

The smell of tarberries, her smell, surrounded him as he buried his face in hair that had went gray long before he knew her. Sunrise had passed hours ago but that suited him just fine, except for the noon light hitting him directly in the eyes. Hancock groaned as he struggled to hide in his lover for five more minutes of peace. Fall air chilled the room but didn’t penetrate their heavy blanket. Juniper hummed as she rolled, tossing an arm over the ghoul and tugging him closer. 

 

“Morning Sunshine,” he said, as he had every day for the last twenty odd years. 

 

Jun’s lips tugged at the edges, not really a smile but something. “John.”

 

Her voice was still rugged as whiskey, his birth name always sounding like a gift when it rolled off her tongue. Greyed eyes peeped out at him from beneath the fringe of her hair, looking but not seeing him. He once asked her what she could see and her reply chilled him: nothing but blackness, like living in a void. It still terrified him some days, like this morning as he re-registered that she wasn’t really seeing him as she broke into a grin. 

 

The hand draped over his waist roamed up to his neck, pulling him closer as she sook out his lips with her own. He caught on quick, kissing her lightly with ragged lips. Jun met him every inch, searching for much more than just a good morning touch. Her hands on him tightened, securing him in place as she nipped and licked, deepening their connection with a leg snaking around his hip. The ghoul moaned openly, giving in to the touch he had been denied for months, maybe years. With newborn passion, Juniper took charge and rolled on top of him, tugging at the white t-shirt he wore to keep warm at night when the seasons changed. At first she was aggressive, possessive, insistent; struggling to touch all of him with all of her all at once. When Hancock laid back, basking in the scent of their coupling she pulled him back to her for another world stopping kiss that had him ready and taking control for romp number two. Panting in unison, sheets thrown across the floor, pillows stuffed at odd angles in the bed, the pair returned to that first solemn cuddle they awoke in. Hancock was still seeing stars, blown away by their lovemaking, when Jun slid off the bed and strode naked and confident to the washbasin by the window. 

 

“Room with a view,” the ghoul purred, resting his arms beneath his head to appraise his woman. Jun chuckled, murmuring something about getting too old for this, to which Hancock growled. 

 

Ignoring him, Jun moved around the room to the dresser, pulling on a white t-shirt and army fatigues, leaving the shirt unbuttoned. She was graceful still, accustomed to moving around the statehouse on her own without stumbling over something she couldn’t see. Still, Hancock watched her with caution, propped up on an elbow ready to catch her should she slip. Begrudginly, he finally rose to dress as well, pulling on a ratty pair of jeans and sliding into his red coat without donning a shirt. Their routine began as she found his hand and trailed him out of the room. They split at the stairs with a kiss, the ghoul going to his office to settle business as usual for Goodneighbor. One of his guard, the ghoul with the blue eyes; Hancock could not remember his name only that Jun once fancied him; offered his wife the crook of his arm as he led her gently to the doorway and down the steps towards Daisy’s shop. A growl tingled in the mayor’s chest, old jealousy that hadn’t reared its head since the last time he’d slept with his wife all those months ago. Tucking in his rage, he greeted Farenheit who had insisted for the past two decades that she had nothing better to do than hang out and play bodyguard for the ghoul. She offered him a cigarette and remarked lewdly about Hancock’s morning activities. He scoffed at her before reclining in his desk. The work for the day consisted of sorting through trader’s letters, collecting caps from the few vagabonds who entered his office in search of a quick high, and greeting the few new and most familiar faces of people who staying in the statehouse’s attic shelter. 

 

Glancing out the window, Hancock satisfied himself by watching Jun laugh at something Daisy said. My wife, he thought, mine. She had been in such good spirits this morning that something akin to hope lit in his chest. Maybe she was getting better, maybe the dark days were finally passing. Jun frowned at a trader while he spoke to Daisy, twirling her sword-made-cane in a vague but threatening fashion. Her sleeves had been rolled up, her boots swinging as she perched on Daisy’s desk. The shade of the building cast marks across the ridges of her face, dancing on scars that had once made his wife self conscious. It was like viewing one of those fancy museum paintings, a time out of time, as if he wasn’t really there. As if he couldn't reach out and touch her if he wanted to. The scene was like an old fresco, hallowed and untouchable but with ridges of paint that called out for just one touch, the grace of a gentle finger, just to experience it. If only there was a way to preserve this moment, save it in something more physical than a painting, something he could go back to and hold when the heartache kicked in. if he could put it in a locket and wear it around his neck to open when the cold nights alone asked him why he was still here. The ghoul cracked the window open, hoping to catch a few words of the conversation that had picked back up when the trader left. Instead, he heard the peals of Jun’s laughter, something that had hooked him worse than any chem ever had. A smile crept over him, borrowed itself in his bones. She was happy, his love, and that would make him happy. 

 

His stomach growled and Hancock decided it was time to break for lunch, announcing such to Fahrenheit as he left. If it was jealousy that stirred the cold shoulder to the ghoul who held his door open he all but welcomed it, anything but the constant apathy. Cleo greeted him as he passed, coming up on Juniper and Daisy talking. Jun was still sat on the desk, saying something he didn’t catch as Daisy scribbled words out on an old parchment. The mayor entered the shop and leaded a shoulder on the wall, grinning in bliss. 

 

“Afternoon, Ladies.” 

 

Daisy folded up her work and handed the paper to Jun who fit it into her shirt pocket before tilting her head in the direction of her husband, a pale hand bracing on Daisy’s shoulder. After a moment of admiration and a laugh from Daisy, Hancock pushed off the wall and slid between Jun’s dangling legs, putting his hands on her thighs so she would know he was there. 

 

“Mayor,” Daisy greeted. “I’m pretty sure it’s closer to sundown that afternoon.” 

 

Jun giggled like a child and Hancock looked up at her in wonder before responding. “Miss Daisy, I’m pretty sure sundown is still after the noon.” 

 

Shaking her head, Jun reached out to where she thought his face would be and found his jaw with her palm. He leaned into the gesture, his hands moving up to her hips and squeezing once. 

 

“You hungry, Sunshine?”

 

“Famished,” she smiled. 

 

Hancock lifted her up off the counter easily, spinning her and ignoring how unhealthy her weightlessness felt. He kissed her on the forehead as he sat her down, letting her get her bearings and she pinched him on the arm. They bid goodbye to Daisy as he led her across the walk to the Third Rail and with mirth picked her up again to carry her bride-style down the stairs. Ham nodded to them as they passed and Jun hooked her arms around her husband’s neck, too aware of ridges of his bare chest brushing into her side. Roaming with her hands, she learned that not only had he forgone the shirt this morning but also his hat. In this sense he was more her John, the man behind the mask, and she relished that he felt distracted enough to forgo his persona today. He would need it, she thought to herself as she traced the curve of his ear with her thumb. He would need it. 

 

As they entered the bar people greeted them. Hancock set Jun back on her feet and one of the vagrants at the table smiled at her before he remembered and vocalized a hello which she returned with a smile he could see. Magnolia hummed something silky into the mic and tipped her head at the mayor as he led his wife to the bar and spoke to Charlie. 

 

“What’cha got cooking today tin man?” 

 

The handybot whirs over to square up with his mayor. If a faceless robot could scowl, Charlie was doing it. “Mirelurk stew, Boss. Couple of Dirty Wastelanders just fixed up. Maybe squirrel on a stick if you ask nicely.” 

 

The bar was sticky with spilled beers and food stains, the dim lights making it hard to avoid sticking a hand in something unpleasant. Although he was efficient, Charlie had never been the nicest and if someone dared complain about how he kept his bar you might loose a finger to his little saw arm. The Third Rail had remained constant as time passed. The same ruffians took up the worn down arm chairs as the first time Juniper had ever entered the place, some still wearing the same clothes. Magnolia was radiant as ever, the only change was the yellow band around her left hand finger. As Charlie served people, Magnolia crooned an upbeat tune whose words were anything but; a doomed lover who follows his partner into the darkness of death. Juniper made a sour face as she listened but covered it quickly by holding her hand out for a bottle to drink. Her husband pushed a bowl up to her and gently took her hand to guide it to the spoon as if it was second nature to him. If anyone else noticed his assistance they said nothing, doing so would have lost them a limb and maybe a life depending on who it was that got to them first. For all his teasing, Charlie had grown very fond of Jun and would take a slice out of anyone who bad mouthed her in his bar regardless if she was present. 

 

Charred chunks of meat floated around clumps of dumplings, pushed around by the ghoul’s spoon as he picked at his meal. His mood was just starting to deflate as Jun reached over and dipped a finger into his bowl and found her mark: scooping out a dumpling and popping it into her scarred mouth. 

 

“Hey!” the ghoul caught her hand as she sucked the last finger clean. Butterflies rose in the pit of his stomach, a sly grin peeling back his lips. “If the mayor catches you stealing like that you’ll be in a load of trouble lady.”

 

Jun looks towards his voice, greyed eyes swaying as if she is trying to lock on but can’t. It unsettles him but then she laughs, wholly and with her whole body. “The mayor had best watch out then, I don’t think he knows what he’s getting into coming after me.”

 

Across the bar Charlie groans and whirs away from the sappy scene. Hancock lets out a pleased hum and runs his hand up the woman’s knee, leaning closer. 

 

“Sunshine, you don’t know the half of it.” 

 

Laughing him off, Jun returns to her meal and delights when Charlie stops by and plops a few extra dumplings in her bowl like he always does. Hancock grumbles about the privileges of the fair sex and Jun thumps him on the shoulder a little lower than she had intended but hitting her mark all the same. They reminisce over lunch, all wicked grins and breathless laughter. Hancock brings up the time they got stuck out in Far Harbor after the boat hit the rocks and had to stay with Old Longfellow who had probably never heard the word bath in his life. Jun grins on that one, reminding him that they broke the old man’s bed while he was gone and never got around to buying him a new frame. That launches the ghoul into a series of stories of broken beds, couches, tables, and the like. Charlie coughs mechanically and Jun shakes her head, turning the conversation back to something publicly acceptable. She asks if he remembers that first night, getting rained out by the rad storm and holing up in that old train car. Goddamn if it isn’t a memory that replays in his might every day; her warm body sliding up next to him to stay warm, her gentle snores, the moment he knew he was in danger of falling in love. She tells him she knew it would be him from the moment he stabbed a guy over her honor, which is a lie but he preens at it all the same. Sticking to truth, Jun moves on. 

 

The next one is about Strong and how the couple had to shamefully explain to him what was happening when they got caught very literally with their pants down in Zimonja. Following that is one about Deacon teasing the ghoul about glowing knickers. Charlie refills their drinks and performs the equivalent of shaking his head at them for taking the conversation right back to the gutter. This time Hancock tries to recover, winding a story about how he fumbled up their anniversary one year when he brought her a cat only to have the thing stolen and eaten by super mutants on his journey home. Jun had never knew about that one, probably for the better. Winding down, they joke about Ada and Codsworth’s ongoing flirtations, Preston and Piper’s future, if Cait will ever let Curie out of her sight. They tread carefully around words of work and change, trying to stay upbeat and in the moment. Jun may be trying harder than the ghoul, struggling to keep things light each time he grows too solemn. If Hancock caught on he didn’t mind, watching his lover like she hung the moon in the sky. Eventually, both tipsy and full, they retire to the vip room and Jun curls up in her husband’s lap on the couch. 

 

“I love you,” she tells him as she traces the dips of skin on his chest. 

 

“I love you, too, Sunshine,” he returns, running his fingers through her short grey hair. He thinks it will end there and they will nestle into a much needed nap. 

 

Juniper sits up slowly, running her hands up his chest, over his neck, and cupping his jaw. Her touch examines his expression now that her eyes cannot and she finds him at peace, eyes closed and lips twitched up at the ends. She enjoys it for now, drinking him in. 

 

“Something you’re looking for?” he slides his arms tighter around her as he whispers. 

 

A deep breath leaves Jun’s fingers shaking. “I never saw someone as beautiful as you that first day, cocksure and dressed like yankee doodle but goddamn you were beautiful.”

 

Hancock scoffs. 

 

“John,” his birthname riles him to open one eye and watch her. “You have been so good to me, I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t slammed into my life.”

 

He thinks of this a moment, tries to figure out where she’s leading the conversation and decides to stay silent. Jun breathes in after a moment. 

 

“I love you,” she repeats. 

 

They sober up within the hour, high tolerance something neither ever grew out of. After a brief hesitation, Jun asks to go home and so Hancock holds out his arm and guides his wife through the Third Rail, up the stairs, out into the cool night air, and to the doors of the statehouse before he scoops her up and carries her up the stairs to their bedroom. Not without fighting it, Jun dozes off in his arms but wakes when his arms leave her on the bed. She bolts upright, breathing hard trying to get her barings. 

 

“John?” she gasps, “Han?” 

 

The ghoul turns back to the bed from where he was planning to undress across the room. He recognizes her fear, there was a lot of it when her vision first went. It’s hard to feel safe in the void. Hancock’s across the room in a heartbeat, curling her into his bare chest and whispering sweet nothings into her hair. She leaves little trails across his skin with her nails as she clutches him like he could slip away at any moment. It takes him no moment to decide, he won’t be letting go of her for the rest of the night. The ghoul picks her up again, shifting her light weight to one arm so he can pull the blanket off the bed to make her comfortable. As he sits back down to crawl into the bed Jun mumbles into the hollow of his neck. 

 

“Your office, please.” her hands shake as she clutches on to his red lapels. “The couch, like the old days.” 

 

Hancock obliges, wrapping the blanket around her instead and carrying her like a child across the hall. Fahrenheit is still there playing cards when he enters. One glance at her long time friend and she nods, sliding out and closing the door behind her where she will stand for the rest of the night as she had learned was smartest. Hancock would not leave his wife and if something came up the other woman would be the first to get whatever they needed. Juniper had somehow nestled her way even into the cold, calculating heart of Hancock’s old bodyguard. 

 

The couch is cool but hasn’t changed in twenty years. There’s still stuffing puffing out of the middle seat, it’s been pushed back in for so long it’s changed to a dull brown. An old cigarette burn hole decorates the top left where Nick once accidentally almost caught the place on fire. The reedy red couch was where their life together began, that first time they admitted to both themselves and each other that this was a real thing. This was happening. This couch saw them through all the sleepless night and chem induced comas. There was a year when Hancock sought to replace the thing with a newer version and Juniper fought him for a whole week about it. The damn couch wasn’t worth a single cap but there was life in it, their life. The ghoul sinks down with his back against the arm and holds his wife, still whispering to her and stroking her hair. His heart is aching to make things right. 

 

“John, make me a promise.” Juniper tells the curve of his arm where her face is hidden. 

 

The old ghoul grunts, not agreeing outright. 

 

Juniper leans back to pull Daisy’s folded paper from her chest pocket. “Don’t read this until I’m not around, ok?” 

 

Hancock studies the paper, a grim look on his face. Their history with letters had never been a pleasant one. Relenting, he takes the folded thing from her and tosses it onto the coffee table. 

 

“Promise.” 

 

“Another one,” Jun says, hiding her face again. 

 

Hancock waits. The fall wind whistles through the open windows and decaying building. The house creaks, groaning as it’s skeleton settles into the cold night. Somewhere far off a gunshot echo reaches them. Laughter floats up from the town square. The sounds of Goodneighbor night life lulls around room. It all goes silent when he looks at her. Her knuckles are white on his open coat, wrists as slim as the sword she leans on. He face is just as striking as the first time she revealed it to him, all bruised and slashed yet elegant. Torn apart like those old Japanese pots but mended with gold. Bruises of gold on porcelain eyes. His Juniper, his. 

 

“Don’t you ever let yourself forget how amazing you are,” she commands him. “Don’t you think for one second that you are less than the greatest thing that ever fucking happened to me, to this place, to so many of those people. You are the best thing,” tears well and spill over her eyes. “You are the best damn thing that ever happened to me.” 

 

No tears, not tonight. “Yes, yes anything love, anything for you Sunshine. Yes.” he punctuates each promise with a kiss, lifting her face so he can take away her tears. “I love you, I love you, i love you,” he says it like a mantra, a prayer. He assures her all the way down, kissing all her scars and both her eyes. He holds on to her like she might melt away. Jun returns his fervor for every inch, every move. This time, when they make love, they’re both crying but not silent. The hiccups and moans and ragged breaths are cemented with touched foreheads and nails in skin. Outside, a storm rolls in, thunder cracking around them as they fight against the world by coming together again. 

 

The storm leaves as languidly as it came, leaving rain on the windowpains and water in the streets. Absently Hancock remembers Jun telling him how the sky cries for it’s people, the free birds and the drifters, when they need mourning. Jun sleeps, redressed to fight off from the cold with thick knit socks tucked into the wedge between couch cushions. The ghoul rises, slips to the door and asks Fahrenheit to bring his blouse and trousers, he’d prefer to be dressed in the morning if he’s going to sleep in his office. She brings his things quickly, methodically, and locks the door when he shuts it. Hancock dresses, lays his hat on the table next to the letter that he can’t look at, not tonight. With one last sigh he pulls Jun close and holds her close beneath the blanket, counting her breath on his cheek like sheep to fall asleep to. 

 

The sun breaks through too early, the dawn hits like a personal attack. It’s freezing in the Statehouse, sometime last night it rained again and there are puddles under the windows that drip between floors. Fahrenheit sits in a chair next the the office doors, dozing lightly. The other guards roam the floors, trading day and night shifts. Life wakes in Goodneighbor like clockwork. Daisy comes down the stairs as the sun goes up, counts her caps and sets out the merchandise for the day. Cleo, who never sleeps, greets her as fondly as the day before and the day before that. Drifters are rising, the cold ground too wet to stay sleeping. Some of them just move to a dry place and drift back to sleep, others line up at the shops to buy the first hit of the day. Across the Wastes life continues as it has for the last two, almost three hundred years, a weary, unyielding cycle. 

 

Inside the relative shelter of the Statehouse, the mayor of Goodneighbor rouses because a beam of light is hitting him in the face. He adjusts, gets comfortable on the cramped couch where he sleeps with his wife. As quickly as he woke he begins to fall back asleep but something in his gut drives his eyes open. There is a staleness in the air, palpable dread. His terror freezes him, he doesn’t want to check. He doesn’t want the answer. His stomach is turning already, his heart feels emptier. 

 

“Morning, Sunshine,” he whispers, closing his eyes as he turns his head and kisses her lightly on the forehead. The woman doesn’t move. “Jun?”

 

In his arms is his wife, the last survivor of vault one-eleven, the last smoothskin from before the war, the mother of the dead Institute, the chief of the Railroad, the general of the Minutemen, the captain of Far Harbor, the savior of the Commonwealth. This larger than life woman with more titles than clothes who sacrificed again and again and again to keep their world safe. Her face is serene, her scars even seem lighter as if the bruising has faded with the cool air. On her lips is the smile she fell asleep with. The smell of their love still lingers in the air, made stale by the sinking realization that her weight on him is more than just sleep. This stillness is more than just the early morning. 

 

“Juniper?” He shakes her gently, brushing her hair back, kisses her again. “Jun, Sunshine, Juniper, Juni,” he’s sat up now, bringing her with him, rocking her. “Juniper please, wake up love. Sunshine, I can’t do this without you, Jun don’t leave me.” He’s bawling, his hands are shaking, he buries his face in her throat and cries, cries, cries until something inside of him shatters, a dam breaking. He gently tucks Juniper’s body back into the blanket. 

 

The ghoul roars. He screams, thrashes, throws things. His desk flies out the window, landing in the courtyard below. The sounds of his rampage echo through Goodneighbor. His vision goes red, his stomach is hollow and he growls out his hunger. Someone will pay for this, someone will die for taking his love away. The whole goddamn world with pay for it. He’ll make everyone still alive bleed for their insult. How dare they wake when she can’t. How dare they live. His brain scrambles, nothing but blackened rage and her name. Jun. Jun. Jun. Gone. 

 

Fahrenheit hears the commotion and fears the worst, already assuming. When she cracks open the door she sees the body, wrapped primly on the couch but pale as a ghost. Hancock is in a corner, rocking on he knees and growling. An old fear grips the woman at the door. It’s finally happened. Her boss has gone feral. She steps inside, calls out his name. The ghoul in the corner doesnt move until she comes too close to the couch. It happens in the blink of an eye, first he’s in the corner then he’s rushing her, all teeth and black, unseeing eyes. Fahrenheit screams, calls for help, shoots him point blank in the chest. 

 

The ghoul slumps, blood blooming across his white blouse, pooling on the back of his red frock coat. He looks at her, the trance broken. Timidly, he touches his own wound as his plops down on the old red couch beside his wife. He looks at his oldest friend with weary eyes, she’s crying. He won’t survive this wound, but it’s fine. He doesn’t want to. He tries to articulate this, to tell her it’s ok, that he’s sorry. When he opens his mouth only one word comes out. 

 

“Jun.” 

 

__

 

Fahrenheit radios the only person she trusts: Nick Valentine. He arrives before the sun reaches noon. She tries to explain it but cant, crying into his old duster as he fails to console her. If synths could cry he would be too. She leads him to the room but doesn’t stay, instead rushing off to Daisy’s store where the old ghoul hugs her and shakes her head. When he enters the room he has to close his eyes. Hancock is dead, his arm wrapped around Juniper, cradling her to his chest with his last strength. His hat sits on the coffee table, the one thing not disturbed in his rampage. Nick crosses the floor and picks it up, his heart breaking. Out of the hat falls a letter. He rolls in in his hand, it’s addressed to John. He chooses not to read it. 

 

Macready gets the news and makes the trip back to the Commonwealth to pay his respects. Deacon helps Nick move the bodies. They bury Juniper beside her husband, both of them, on the little island in the river that wraps around Sanctuary. Sturges builds a monument to them, Piper plants tarberries in the river around them, Preston leaves the general’s hat on Jun’s grave next to Hancock’s tricorn. Cait almost doesn’t come and drinks for days after, Curie consoles her and the others, offering them her services. Strong comes, leaves milkjug and speaks to no one. There are others, the whole ‘Wealth it seems comes to pay their respects. A fence goes up around the island to keep strays off the fresh soil. 

 

Juniper James has passed, followed by her lover John Hancock. She is laid to rest next to him, in the plot she buried her first husband and her son. She is at peace finally. There is a letter on the grave next to hers, stuck inside a historic tricorn. 

 

\--- 

 

John,

 

There’s no easy way to tell you this. I’ve tried to say it a million times. I love you. That’s not it but you can’t hear it enough, i can’t say it enough. You complete me. If the whole world had to end so i could meet you, i’d do it again in a heartbeat with my own hands. You are worth so much more than you think, you have change the world for so many people, do so much good. You like to say you never did anything to deserve this but Han you have done so much. These people don’t follow you because you scare them, it’s not because they need you. It’s because they love you. They respect you because you treat them like people. Because you protect them. My wish for you is that one day you look into the mirror and see yourself the way i see you. I’m so sorry my love, i am so so sorry. I have to leave you now, it’s not my choice. I had a dream last night and somehow i just knew, i knew this was going to be the last day we have. Hopefully you won’t be too mad at Daisy, someone had to write this for me. Damn eyes are worthless now, but i still see you, how beautiful you are when the sun rises and you open those big black eyes. I never told you but the darkness doesn’t scare me as much anymore, not when i think of your eyes. I could look into them for days and now i see only them. I love you John. I love you so much. 

 

Here you come, i can hear your steps. I hope this finds you well. 

 

I love you, 

 

Juniper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yup, this is indeed the canon ending for Jun and Hancock. I'm sorry, i promise i was in pain the entire week i wrote this. come punish me i feel awful for it. thanks for stepping in. if you want more, happier jun and han check out Bruises of Gold which i swear i will get back to updating now that i have got this out of my system. thanks for your time as always, ilysm.


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